Those Freakin' Winchesters
by actuallyquicksilver
Summary: Of course, they just had to show up, fixing everything that was better left broken, those Winchesters. Seriously, it was the worst time possible! I was on track to having a normal life, just as i'd always planned, but noooo, those freaking Winchesters had to ruin it. Super awesome. Rated T for language, featuring soulless!Sam, and slight OOCness


**Alright, hello, everyone! It is I, the American Psycho, once again, or if you haven't read my work previously, hi, nice to meet you. So, interesting little bit about this story, it started as a plot bunny where Sam and Dean stopped at my favorite pizza place in the history of ever, then there was an OC, and a backstory, and soulless!Sam got thrown in there for the shits and giggles... So, enjoy reading, and expect more works from me including a Harry Potter/Avengers crossover, and a rewrite of my Harry Potter/Supernatural crossover.**

 **~The (Literal) American Psycho**

 **Warning! Soulless!Sam, OOCness**

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Everything started when I'd come back from my class (Latin, one of my favorites) to find my dormmate, a lovely girl with smooth ebony hair cropped to her shoulders, the complete opposite of my own blonde hair that fell to my waist. and green eyes a darker shade than my own, with another girl in our building laying on her bed, blood pouring hot and crimson down onto the baby blue sheets. I'd been startled as she turned to look at me with eyes blacker than coal.

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"Just who I've been waiting for," she sneered, stalking toward me with a knife in hand. I took my bag filled with my heavy course books and mustered all my strength, hurling the bag around to the side of her head, making her stagger. I took this as my opportunity to run, into a public place, anywhere that wasn't the mostly deserted student housing building. I turned, sprinting down the hallway, thanking whatever deity existed for my extensive track and field training (hey, I had to get a scholarship somehow). Just as I took the turn to go down a staircase, i heard her call out to me again.

"You can't run forever, little miss Mary!" It mocks, "No one would ever want you, as freakish as you are, always running, always avoiding," it sneered.

I froze. No one called me Mary, and NO ONE brought that up unless they wanted to leave missing several limbs. I saw red, taking my butterfly knife from my pocket and flipping it open, waiting at the bottom of the stairs until she was visible, then hurling my knife. I closed my eyes upon hearing the impact. I knew my aim was dead-on. As I opened my light green eyes (not the Avada Kedavra green I'd always wished they'd be- disappointing, I know.) two things happened simultaneously; black clouds of smoke flew from her mouth as she dropped and two grown men dressed in plaid practically skidded around the corner.

One was like super tall, with longish brown hair and hazel eyes. He kind of reminded me of a moose… Anyways, the other one was shorter, but still tall enough that I had to look upwards from my measly 5'3'' to meet green eyes, a shade weirdly similar to mine, and short but well-styled blonde hair- which was almost identical in shade to the locks that fell to my waist. They both held flasks in their hands, and the tall one carried a double-edged knife as well. They practically glared at the smoke cloud until it dissipated up through a vent before looking to the body (with a knife wedged in the throat) and me.

Now, at this point i was a bit shocked, as you might imagine, and my mask slipped. I just killed my roommate. I stumbled back towards the wall, sliding down to the ground as soon as I made contact with the cold, hard surface. I was a murderer- sure I'd done bad things, but this was by far the worst (duh). I was going to lose the scholarship I'd worked so hard for. My thoughts were interrupted my one on the man, the tall one who'd squatted down next to me, and was now asking my name.

I shook my head lightly, attempting to clear it, and effectively putting my 'mask' back on. "Mary Quinn. No last name. Call me Mary and you die," I say, giving my standard response. He looked a little taken aback but replied.

"Okay, Quinn, then, I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean," he gestured to the blonde one standing behind him, "And we hunt things like what you just saw. If you don't mind we'd like to talk to you. You probably have a few questions and we'll tell you what we can, 'kay?"

I nod, moving to stand. "That's fine."

Dean looks a bit skeptical when I stand up, seemingly over the fact that I killed someone. You see, I am a girl of few emotions, and as I've always told myself, caring is not an advantage. Now that I did this the only thing to do was face the consequences...or not.

"Alright, then," the now-standing Sam has to work to sound nice, i can hear it. "That was a-"

"A demon, if I'm correct?" Dean is properly shocked now.

"How do you know that?" he asks suspiciously.

I raise an eyebrow. "One of my many classes. Now, if this is going to take long, would you mind if it was on the road? I'm kinda hungry, and i need a good drive right about now. So," i start walking out the door, fishing my keys out of my pocket, "you can do whatever, I couldn't care less, and I will be driving for about…. three hours." I'm out the door and into parking.I head to the black '69 Charger, my pride and joy, getting in and cranking up the volume-my phone was plugged into the aux, playing my Pandora playlist, the current song being Heart of Fire by Black Veil Brides. The brothers hurry out after me, and after a quick discussion, Sam opens my passenger door and Dean gets into the '67 Impala.

"Nice of you to join me," I snark (one of my specialties, if I do say so myself).

He smiles tightly at me as i start to make my way out of the parking lot, humming to the tune of the music.

"So, Harvard, huh?" he tries to make small talk as i look in my rearview at the Impala that is following me closely.

"Yup," I say, popping the 'P'.

"That's really great," Sam attempts to continue the painful small talk, "What're you majoring in?"

"Christo! Claudite futuo acendit," I mutter.

"Did you just curse at me in a dead language?"

"Samantha, please. Hush child. I'm listening to music." We travel in silence, listening to various loud punk bands for about twenty minutes until i speak again. "Does your brother ever see how fake you're acting?"

"What do you mean?" he asks carefully.

"Well, it's pretty obvious. Since the moment I met you I could tell; caring takes work for you. I should know. But your brother's convinced, so everyone else should be too, yeah?"

His tall frame stiffens, and he turns towards the window, frowning. His silence lasts for about 4 more songs before his pretty little mouth decides to open back up. Joy.

"So, where are we going?"

"Wherever I decide to drive us, Samantha." Is the answer he gets. However, I decide to be nice and give him an actual answer after a few beats. "Holyoke. I am driving to Holyoke, and if there is an issue, I can leave you on the side of the road for Deanna to pick you up."

He shoots me a scowl at my no-nonsense answer. "What's in Holyoke?"

"Home," is the reply, accompanied by a bitter chuckle.

"Great, so we're on a road trip of sentimentality." I can feel him roll his eyes, even without looking at him.

"Hey, you're the ones who wanted to follow me."

"We wouldn't have followed you if you hadn't been so okay with just having killed someone."

"Caring is not an advantage." I state my mantra out loud.

"Well, isn't that a cynical way of looking at things," he laughs.

"I try," i grin, thinking that maybe Samantha wouldn't be that hard to deal with. I pick up my phone, connected to the car by an aux cord i'd installed along with a modern radio, and hand it to Sam. "Pick some music, why don't you?"

He looks slightly surprised, but complies, scrolling through my Pandora stations before choosing a station that starts playing really angsty, rage music. I raise an eyebrow.

"So, Samantha, what's your issue? I mean, I have my reasons for being this way, but what about you princess?"

"Thats hardly your business, Quinn," he says frostily, "And i could ask what your reasons are."

"Oooo, salty, are we," I smirk, "Well we still have a half an hour before we get there, where i could either pick up a certain book series, or you could tell me." I smirk at his look of disbelief.

"Seriously? How do you even know it's us?" he asks suspiciously.

"Oh, come on, it's not that hard princess. Sam and Dean Winchester, brothers against the world, fighting anything that goes bump in the night. And I know everything. Like how you and Deanna are technically still wanted for the murder of a hell of a lot of people in several different states." I snark, my tone implying that i know much, much more.

He wisely shuts his mouth, scowling.

"Well, I haven't got all day, start talking sweetheart," I smile innocently (even if i'm far, far from it.)

"Well, a while ago, there was an… incident, where we were both needed to be vessels for Michael and Lucifer, the angels. Lucifer was released from the cage and Dean and I collected the Horsemen's rings to reopen the cage to put Lucifer back in it, but we needed a way to get him there. So I said yes and became Lucifer's vessel. I…. I thought I would be able to fight back from inside, but it was harder than i'd expected. In the end I managed to take control long enough to grab Michael and jump. Into the cage, that is. So that's where i was. In the cage with Michael and Lucifer as they fought. Only a year passed up here but time is different in hell. I lost track of how long I was in the cage getting beat on by two angels who were the complete opposite of everything people make them to be here on earth, but i woke up and i wasn't in hell anymore. I mean, i'm not complaining or anything. It's great to not be in there anymore. But Dean expects me to be the same person i was before the cage, and i can't be, because you're right, it takes effort to care. That's why i stayed with the Campbells for as long as i did, because they didn't care how apathetic i was, they just cared that i got the job done." Sam delivers the monologue flatly, looking directly out the front windshield.

"I see," I nod, thinking.

"So what about you, Miss Mary Quinn, "no last name, call me Mary and you die"? What's your story?" he raises an eyebrow, turning to face me.

"We're here," I avoid the question as i pull up outside my destination, quickly hopping out and slamming the door behind me.

"You said we'd be driving three hours,it's only been about an hour and a half," Sam says as he pulls himself gracefully from the Charger.

I shrug. "That's round trip. I'll be going back to school, of course."

"Alright then," He looks around where we're parked as the Impala pulls up, parking behind my Charger.

"So, Quinn, where are we?" Dean asks as he climbs out of the Impala, folding his arms across his chest.

I turn to him with an eyebrow raised. "We are in Holyoke, at Capri's," I say as if talking to a small child, gesturing to the sign behind me, turning and striding into the aforementioned establishment.

As i walk in, I breathe in deeply, letting a smile grace my features for the first time in a terribly long while as i smell the italian foods. "John!" I call out, catching the attention of the owner in the kitchen as the Winchesters enter, "Think you can hook me and these losers up with the usual?"

Dean looks incredibly offended that I called him a loser, and Sam just looks amused and interested as he observes what's happening.

John comes out from behind the counter to hug me as a greeting. "Anything for my very favorite customer, Quinn! It's so nice to see you, how's college? Who are these tall and handsome gentlemen?" he asks with an eyebrow waggle, making me laugh.

"How about I tell you all about it while we get that pizza started, yeah?"

'Alright, alright," He chuckles, hurling an apron in my direction, that I snatch out of the air and quickly tie around my waist, following him into the kitchen. I pause, turning back to the boys.

"Make yourselves comfortable, Samantha, Deanna," as an afterthought, i add, "And try not to wreck anything,like I've heard you Winchesters are so fond of." As I spin on my heel, I can practically feel their bewildered glares. I ignore them, flipping on the radio, letting "Hey Jude" filter through the restaurant, humming along as I saunter back to the kitchen.

Now the only issue was what to do with those Winchesters…

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Sam(antha) POV

Quinn was certainly an enigma. She somehow could just _tell_ and she knew all about us.

"What the hell, man?" Dean asks from across the booth we'd settled at.

"What?"

"She's like a freakin' psycho, that's what! "Mary Quinn, call me Mary you die"?! No normal college girl would be totally okay with just having killed her freakin' roommate and takes off on a drive for a pizza!" he shoots me a look after his little rant, "So what'd you figure out about her, you're the one that spent an hour and a half in a car with her."

"Well, apparently her whole thing is, as she told me, "Caring isn't an advantage."."

"Who the fuck has that kind of mindset?!"

"Miss "Mary Quinn, call me Mary and you die," apparently." I chuckle.

Dean glares at me. "No shit, Sherlock."

"Hey, don't ask stupid questions if you don't want stupid answers, jerk."

"Bitch. So you didn't happen to get a why out of that whole car ride, did you?"

"Incidentally, a why has been promised on the way back to Harvard," i lean back, "But what I do know as of now, is that she knows a lot about us. Like Chuck-level crap."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "How? Do you think she's a Prophet?"

"I don't know man, I guess we'll have to wait until we get back to Cambridge to find out."

"You wanna switch and drive Baby back? I can go in the Charger instead."

"I don't think that's a great idea, I just got her talking the last twenty minutes," I fake an exasperated sigh, conveniently leaving out the part where I might have spilled my story.

"Alright Sammy," Dean shrugs, slouching back. I scowl, choosing not to call him out on the ever-annoying nickname.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, until Quinn walks up, her long blonde hair pulled into a messy bun, a sparkle in her green eyes, and her cheek smudged with flour, closely followed by John who is holding a huge pizza.

"Scooch over Sasquatch," she demands, moving to sit next to me.

John slides the pizza onto the table, winking at Quinn before returning to the kitchen. She scoffs, grabbing a piece of pizza and practically moaning as she bites into it.

"Please, help yourselves boys," she says, her tone indicating that it is not, in fact, a suggestion. I oblige, grabbing a square that seems to be topped with any and all pizza toppings imaginable, while Dean does so less willingly.

Across the booth, we can clearly see Dean getting more agitated by the moment at how casually Quinn and I were acting, much to our amusement.

"Son of a bitch!" he suddenly bursts out, slamming a fist on the table.

Quinn bursts into laughter at his outburst, succeeding in making Dean angrier, taking a moment to conceal it with a hand, gesturing to John with an odd hand motion that causes him to show up with three beers, leaving just as quickly as he comes.

Once she has collected herself, Quinn swigs a beer before speaking. "Okay, one; Rude, and two; what was that for?"

"Because you're some kind of freak," she stiffens next to me while I internally curse Dean for his poor choice of words, and he plows on, "That apparently knows a shit-ton about me and my brother, and did something to a demon, for Christ's sake, that immediately caused it to vacate the premises, and you're completely unfazed, like what kind of normal person reacts like that?! And your weird sarcastic, cynical way of looking at everything, "caring is not an advantage" and all that bullcrap, what the hell is that?" Dean rants, leaning forward over the table to deliver his spiel. I tense, waiting for either of their next moves.

Whatever I was expecting, it was not Quinn taking a deep breath, standing up swiftly and stalking away, causing John to glare at Dean (which i found hilarious, not that i was going to say anything).

"Nice job, Dean," I bite out, hurrying to follow the angry blonde out. I was, after all, promised a story on the way back.


End file.
